


An E%quisite Bill of Health

by Aewin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Medical Kink, Nookworms, PWP, Parasite Kink, Parasites, Sheathplay, Those last two are a "kinda sorta depending on interpretation" thing, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/pseuds/Aewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You approached Equius when you were due for your first mandatory pailing checkup, because you weren’t sure if having two bulges was grounds for culling and you figured EQ was your best chance at fudging the info. You definitely weren’t expecting to wind up in a once-an-Equinox pailing arrangement where he ensured you only had one participating bulge. Guy’s a sucker for accuracy. Not that you mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An E%quisite Bill of Health

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlossomofFireandRain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomofFireandRain/gifts).



> This is an early birthday gift for the wonderful [Jam](http://nuclearvampire.tumblr.com). I hope you have a wonderful day tomorrow, darling <3
> 
> If you want a visual on the incarnation of nookworms I used for this fic, you can go [here](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com/post/73101832920/realmonstrosities-bugcthulhu-revereche) for a SFW (if your brain isn't corrupted as badly as mine) picture of the anemone I based them on. Mmm, who _wouldn't_ want one of those squirming beauties shoved into every available orifice?

_Clang!_

You wince and bend down to retrieve the jar of cotton cleansing blobs, scoop the ones that spilled back into the glass container, then deposit the jar back on the counter next to your masterpiece-in-progress. Equius’s medical office is boring as fuck, and until he gets here you’re determined to amuse yourself by constructing things that will make him stammer and sweat like he’s in the throes of his heat cycle. Things such as a two-foot-tall equine dong with a bulge wrapped around it, lovingly sculpted from cotton cleansing blobs, cotton-tipped auricular scoops, and no less than two full tubes of thick, surgical-grade lube that he just _happened_ to have sitting around. Eheheh.

The door clicks open behind you and you nearly drop the jar again.

“ _Fuck_ , EQ. Warn a guy!” You glare at Equius as you wipe excess lube off on your shirt.

He pins you with a cool stare. “I would instruct you to make yourself at hive, but I see you have already done so. I— _oh_.” A bluish tint suffuses his face suddenly, and you grin. Jackpot. “Mr. Captor, if you could please remove the, ah, _offending object_ , so that we may get on with our examination?”

You roll your eyes but crush the sculpture with psi and float it into the garbage disposal bin. No sense of humor, this guy. Fortunately, he’s got redeeming qualities—a mind to rival yours, an easy-to-fluster personality, the willingness to fudge your exam data for AA’s sake. Surprisingly decent under the exterior assholery, and given that you’re KK’s spade, you know _all_ about that particular personality archetype.

Equius gestures at the reclining exam chair, and you flop into it with an _oof_ , sprawling casually. He wastes no time getting his hands on you, squeezing your arms and recording fuck-knows-what about them on the clipboard nearby. The intimacy of it and the reminder of what’s to come turns your breathing shallow, and you can feel the heat rise between your thighs as he palms at them.

“You’ve gained a bit of weight. Exquisite. When is your next molt due?”

“Ehh, around the next equinox, I think. But you don’t have to wait for a medical issue to pop up to get those nice _strong_ hands on me, you know. ” You cock an eyebrow at him to accentuate your point. His strength issues are mostly under control nowadays, but you really can’t resist a jab at them. Maybe you’re an asshole. Maybe you don’t give a shit. Maybe all of the above.

Equius clucks at you disapprovingly while he prods at your stomach. “Given your, erm. Unique bifurcation issues, I’d classify you as a constant medical issue. Which reminds me, how _have_ your mood swings been lately?”

You shrug. “More predictable, but still there. The meds help, I think. Haven’t sparked around KK recently, so, y’know, shit’s manageable.”

He grins wryly. “Yes, Mr. Vantas is certainly a handful. Sit straight and breathe, if you would.”

You do as he instructs, swallowing and breathing and kicking distractedly at the floor in anticipation while he records the results. After waiting long enough that you think that molt must be due soon, he turns back to you and clears his throat. “Next is the, ah. Pailing Preparation checkup. Your pants, if you would.”

You’re pretty sure you set a record for peeling out of skinny jeans. The tips of your bulges are already prodding at the entrance of your sheath due to the extensive amount of touching he’s done, and you spread your legs with a grin to give him a good look. He breaks out with a thin sheen of sweat as he kneels between them, and much to your fascination you can actually _see_ it collect into pale blue beads as he runs his fingers along the outer lips of your nook. You shiver and clench down around nothing.

“Very moist,” he murmurs. “Nook self-lubrication above average around the exterior perimeter.” Something suddenly thrusts into you, and you gasp as his long fingers stroke against your shame globes and make them pulse with need. You grip the chair’s arms so hard your knuckles go white. He doesn’t stop stroking, though, and you hiss and squirm at the overstimulation.

“Holy nubgrubbing _fucknuggets_ , EQ. Is the globe-torture strictly necessary?” You wriggle backwards until he removes the fingers, and bare your teeth at him.

“Merely ensuring that I’ve collected adequate data. You have extremely sensitive globes, Sollux. Did you know that?”

“Call the fucking newsfeeds, universe-shaking information has been uncovered by Alternian Docterrorist Equius Zahhak! _Yes_ , I fucking knew! _You_ fucking knew, you goddamn tease!”

“Yes, and I’m using that to my advantage. Stop fussing, and let me examine your sheath.” You scoot forward in the chair again, and wince as his thumb slips into your sheath and pushes your bulges further inside. It hurts to overstuff your sheath like this, but you know from past experience that it’s worth it in the long run. Equius’s other hand rummages in his pocket, and he pulls out a little metal sheath clip. His thumb moves aside just enough to let one bulge all the way out—and it comes out, _fuck_ does it come out, springing free in a smooth arc, well-lubricated from anticipation. He snaps the clip over the base of the bulge and the bit of sheath that’s holding the other bulge back. It pinches at first, but it settles into place, solidly trapping your second bulge, when he completely takes his hands off of you.

“Bulge: one, thin, nine inches, excessively lubricated.” He gives you a meaningful look as he scribbles the information down on the clipboard. You approached Equius when you were due for your first mandatory pailing checkup, because you weren’t sure if having two bulges was grounds for culling and you figured EQ was your best chance at fudging the info. You definitely weren’t expecting to wind up in a once-an-Equinox pailing arrangement where he _ensured_ you only had one participating bulge. Guy’s a sucker for accuracy. Not that you mind.

Actually, you _really_ don’t mind, not when it means he sinks to his knees and eyes your bulge like it’s slathered in his favorite flavor of grubsauce.

“And now we shall test slurry production.” His voice breaks despite obviously taking extra effort to keep it even, but you can’t really make fun of him on this one because his mouth closes around you, cool and wet, and you fucking _squeak_ and buck up into it. He grasps you by the hips and pushes down firmly, holding you in place. He takes it slowly, swirling his tongue and inching you down his throat at an agonizing rate. When you’re all the way in—the guy doesn’t have a gag reflex to speak of, it’s fucking amazing—he tongues at your sheath, and the pressure against your trapped bulge sets off something animalistic and needy deep inside of you. You bubble over with agitation, your thighs trembling.

“Oh, for shit’s sake, just let me _pail_ you already!”

He pops off with a light _smack_ , and gazes up at you with disapproval clear in his eyes. “Language, Solluxander. And please do not rush me when I’m performing such delicate tests. Besides, I have taken the liberty of ordering an, ah, how shall I put this—? An usual maintenance procedure for you today. One moment, please.”

And the bastard _completely abandons you_ to stand up and uncover something shadowy in the far corner of the block. It’s—oh, fuck. It’s a tank of water with two plump nookworms twining lazily around plants inside. You’ve never used a nookworm before, but it seems you’re about to have the chance.

Equius delicately lifts both of them from the tank and brings them over. They’re whitish, pudgy, and squirmy as shit, looping around his fingers to wave their rings of little tentacle-like appendages around their—mouths? asses? who the hell knows what end is what, with these things?—at you with what seems like interest. One of them stretches out and tendril-hugs your nose, and you jerk back, startled.

You gulp. Actually, literally gulp, which is not a thing you do.

“…both of them?” You’re pretty sure nobody can blame you for being apprehensive here.

Equius nods. “I thought it would suit your tastes to do so, yes. They are quite good for purging the waste and genetic material systems, in addition to their more recreational applications. This _is_ a medical exam, after all.”

You close your eyes and slide forward in the chair to give him better access.

“Do it.” Your voice comes out raspy due to a strange combination of fear and excessive arousal. God, your life is weird.

You do your best not to twitch when Equius holds the first worm up to your nook lips, but your legs jerk slightly anyways because _fuck_ , it’s a weird sensation, having tiny bulge-like tendrils spreading you wide and crawling inside of you like this. He feeds it into you slowly, letting it expand and wriggle at its own pace, and you start to feel a little giddy at the sensation after just a moment; probably the secretions working their way into your bloodstream. Finally, Equius lets go and the worm slips in entirely, coiling almost like a bulge would. You’re not sure you _have_ room for a second one, to be honest. This thing has to be as big as Equius’s bulge, all stretched out, and there’s no way you can take two of—

Something prods at your waste chute, and you freeze. The tentacles of the second worm slide into your ass one by one and prep for entry, and fuck, fuck, how did it come to this point, how are you not entirely opposed to the concept of being double-stuffed by worms while you’ve got a trapped bulge and you’re mind-floating into the proverbial ether thanks to wormslime? It’s just laughable that a nerd like you would wind up spread out like this just because he wanted to avoid being culled sweeps ago, but here you are, and here’s Equius, and here are two worms having a very fucking merry time burrowing and secreting and—

The one in your nook latches onto your shame globes, and starts _sucking_ at them, and you lose your shit. You pull off a marvelous shriek/gasp combo, and your eyes snap back open as the worm lets go and explores elsewhere. Equius is watching with his hand down the open fly of his pants and an entirely-too-satisfied look on his face; you’ll even call it a mischievous grin, in comparison with his usual stoic expression.

“Enjoying yourself, asshole?”

“Indubitably. Though I must confess I’m enjoying watching you squirm even more.” His voice is strained. You’re about to strain it further, because how the _fuck_ is this even fair?

“Then I think it’s time I started enjoying _you_ just to keep everything fair.” A snarl escapes your lips as the nookworm in your ass starts probing deeper, and that. is. _it._ You’re done being patient. “Get. The fuck. On my bulge, Zahhak.”

Equius barely has his pants off before you levitate him on top of you and all but drop him on your neglected bulge, his labcoat fanning out behind him; a little tweaking and he’s sinking down onto you, enveloping you with highblood coolness. The walls of his nook ripple around you as your bulge does its best to imitate the worms, pushing through clenched muscle to rub snugly against his globes. He shudders and lets out a long, shaky breath, falling forward to brace himself on the back of the reclined chair. You laugh and pull him even closer with psi, then stuff his chute with a flurry of toned-down sparks, for good measure. Fair’s fair, after all.

“How rude of you.”

“Yeah, well. Blame it on the wormslime, I’m not exactly thinking straight here.”

“I shall make a note of it for the report.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“You would be surprised what I would do for you, Mr. Captor.” He locks eyes with you, and you melt a little because you can _see_ how much he wants you, reflected in them. He leans down and kisses you, his rough tongue pushing past your lips and exploring, and all bets are off. Maybe it’s the worms, maybe it’s just the fact that you like the guy more every time you learn about something else you have in common, or talk tech, or fawn over AA together, but you might actually be ready to quadrant with him at some point soon.

He groans pitifully at a particularly hard thrash inside of him, and it makes something in your bloodpusher ache.

Now. Fuck it, you’ll quadrant with him _now_.

You pull back from the kiss and push past the incessant writhing in every lower orifice to form coherent speech again.

“You want—aah, shit—wanna fill my red? Wait, fuck, god, I’m such an idiot, now isn’t really the time—”

Equius holds himself up with one arm, long enough to grab your hand and bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I would very much like to be your matesprit, Sollux. It was improprietous from the beginning that we were _not._ ” The raw emotion on his face is sort of terrifying to your drug-addled pan. You pull him into a kiss again to distract yourself from the fact that you never picked up on that before. It seems so _obvious_ now.

His bulge squirms between you, neglected, and the nookworms squirm inside of you, and you squirm under him, and there’s just generally so much fucking squirming going on that you should start charging for it. You’re gonna come any minute now, so you wrap a hand around Equius’s bulge and squeeze as drops of sweat rain down on you. You’re a goddamn gentleman, and fuck anyone who says you aren’t. Equius groans and angles his hips to give you better access, and the goddamn worm in your nook clamps down on your globes again, and you scream and spasm and come, the world fluttery and fuzzy around you due to worm secretions and orgasm. Tension drains away, and the contractions seem to have knocked the worm off your globes, thank fuck, but Equius still hasn’t come and you really need to get these worms out of your—

The worm in your ass and the worm in your nook press against your material sac from opposite sides, and you come again, sharp and oversensitive and—dry? Fuck, you only had enough material for one go? Equius must see the confusion on your face. “As I said, they—ahh—they do a magnificent job cleaning out the system. Extremely good material absorption, and—nngh—Sollux, I—” He’s barely breathing, grinding in desperate circles against the base of your bulge, putting magnificently torturous pressure on your bulge-swollen sheath, so you yank him down and bite his neck, then growl in his ear.

“Come for me, you useless piece of pampered highblood trash.” You know his kinks well by this point, and that does it; he keens and spills cool material between the two of you, crushing your bulge with his nook _just_ enough to send you over the edge for a third (dry) orgasm rather than damaging you for life.

“You are an incorrigible lecher,” he mumbles into your neck. “It is simply inexcusable.”

Your head twitches sharply as the worm rubs against your abused shame globes. “No, what’s inexcusable is that I’m being murdered inside-out by worms that are for some reason still invading everything connected to my slurry sac. I hope you know a _damn good_ way of getting them out fast, or you’re not gonna _have_ a matesprit to fuck any more.”

Equius laughs under his breath and clambers off of you. There are dents in the chair where he gripped it, but eh, whatever, not the first chair you’ve ruined, won’t be the last. You do your best to hold still while he rummages in the pockets of his labcoat. Your own shirt is damp and sticking to you with sweat (mostly his) and material (entirely his), but it’s honestly the least of your problems right now. Assworm is nuzzling your material sac like it’s afraid a loss of contact would cause Trollmageddon, and Globefondler is—well, flailing around dangerously close to your prickling, overstimulated globes again. Equius uncorks a small vial of clearish liquid and dips his finger in it, then shoves it into your nook without ceremony.

“Pheromones,” he explains, and removes the sheath clip with his other hand. You sigh with relief as your bulge retracts to join its now-flaccid twin. You can’t smell the pheromones yourself, but the worms apparently have sensitive whatever-the-fucks-they-use-to-smell-in-the-absence-of-noses, because a mere moment later you’re glaring at Globefondler as it’s deposited back into the tank and begins exuding a yellow cloud of your material into the water. Assworm crawls out without incident as well, and you heave a sigh of gratitude, finally free of the accursed instruments of overstimulation. You flop back in the chair again, feeling suddenly exhausted and empty.

“I don’t suppose you have a spare ‘coon sitting around in the office, do you? I think I need to sleep to forget I ever let those things inside of me.”

Equius gives a worried snort. “You didn’t enjoy them, then.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exasperated. “That was _not_ what I said. They’re fun, at least in moderation, but first of all, you didn’t think to start with _one_? And second, I think the slime high is wearing off. I’m tired as fuck, overstimulated as shit, and the proud new owner of a wrung-dry material sac that feels like it’s been _so_ squeezed that I won’t be able to come for weeks. I really, _really_ just want to fall over and go to sleep.”

Equius ponders for a moment. “There’s no ‘coon here, but I don’t live far. I could close early, if you’d like.”

You sigh in relief. “Would you?”

“Absolutely.” He waves the clipboard at you. “Oh, and Sollux? There are a few minor hiccups, but you have, overall, an _exquisite_ bill of health.”

**Author's Note:**

> I still have an extremely NSFW [tumblr](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com) that plays host to the [rebloggable link to this fic](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com/post/79294077790/an-e-quisite-bill-of-health-3060-words-by-aewin-ao3), if you're interested in sharing or listening to me, erm, _oversharing_.


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